


Embers

by Naemi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Mention of Canonical Major Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't see much use in running any more when he couldn't escape from the darkness in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> [future fic]

 

The fire was burnt down to embers. Isaac didn't care. Wrapped in his leather jacket, the only physical reminder of a life long left behind, he sat near the fire pit and stared into the darkness behind. Save for the nocturnal creatures stirring in the undergrowth, he couldn't hear a sound, and yet he knew that it couldn't take long until footsteps would approach. He anticipated their arrival, although it meant death. A quick one, if he was lucky.

The memories of how and where his journey had begun so long ago snuck into Isaac's thoughts—the sharp pain of cold steel blades and the even sharper pain of a dying breath—and he tried chasing them away with a vigorous shake of his head. To no avail. Keeping these images at bay was a lot harder than dodging the hunters. A lot more tiring, too, and his incapability to overcome the past had worn Isaac out until he was ready to give up. He didn't see much use in running any more when he couldn't escape from the darkness in his heart.

Sighing, he rested his head against the tree behind him. He hadn't slept in two days. Hadn't eaten in three. Hadn't left this clearing in the past twenty-four hours, or this very spot in the past six. The energy with which he once had vibrated was long consumed, but he hadn't realized for a while.

He saw it clearly now. The last spark of hope at a better life, one day, maybe, had been extinguished with his Alpha's death. Isaac didn't _know,_ having burnt all the bridges behind him to never look back again, but he'd felt it: a paralyzing chill deep in his bones, crushing him completely. He'd stumbled on out of mere habit. After being on the move for years, his feet had refused to rest.

The woods around him still lay in natural silence, but in the distance, Isaac thought he could pick up whispered words and the hushed shuffle of feet. Involuntarily, he imagined a medieval mob with torches and pitchforks, a thought so silly and unrealistic that he couldn't help a snicker. It came out unsteady at first, but the longer he held on to that image, the more it filled him with bitter amusement until his whole body shook with laughter that was half real and half desperation.

Without his realization, Isaac scrambled to his feet. He could distinguish several voices now: four men and one woman whispering harshly. Once in a while, dry wood cracked under a heavy boot. Usually, the hunters knew better; maybe they had someone less trained with them, a youngster whose first kill he could become.

In a weird and twisted way, it was a comforting thought that at least Isaac's death might serve a purpose. Nothing was more futile than dying in vain.

As he breathed in the familiar scents of winter that surrounded him, Allison's face tugged at the corners of his mind again, and this time, he let her in, embracing her beauty, remembering her bravery. She had gone down fighting. Had died for a reason—had died for him—and the sudden realization hit him that if he threw away this gift now, this second chance that he had spent wasting, he would render her death futile indeed.

He felt the pinpricks of his claws and the tremble of his growl before he even knew he was about to shift. He didn't believe he'd stand a chance, and if he did, he had no idea where to go, what to do—years' worth of unshed tears would still burn him, and the guilt would still prey on his sanity—but he wouldn't die a coward. He wouldn't die an empty shell.

If death was in his cards tonight, Isaac would at least die free, brave, and worthy of his pack and those who went before him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Full Moon Ficlet, prompt #120: Flux.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
